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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200705">All In Good Time</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed/pseuds/OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed'>OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Thinking about reunions [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Oasis (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Noel is thinking about reunions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:35:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27200705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed/pseuds/OnTheWrongSideOfTheBed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Noel's thoughts go astray.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Liam Gallagher/Noel Gallagher</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Thinking about reunions [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>All In Good Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is just more of me experimenting with style and overblown metaphors, I'm very sorry</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Noel doesn’t think there should be tears. He doesn’t think there should be anything, really. Maybe the graze of a little finger. That’d do him. Every once in ten years or something, a quick, accidental glance at a flash of blue and another ridiculous haircut and the feeling of thick skin moving along his for half a second, maybe one. That’d be enough. He doesn’t need more, and he really doesn’t want more. Of course he doesn’t need it. He isn’t dependent on anything, anyone. He isn’t dependent full stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s going to be a long corridor, maybe, full of people, lots of people, to provide a cushion of anonymity and haste or just no time for more. Because Noel doesn’t need, doesn’t want more, but of course Liam - Liam wants more, needs more, is dying for more. But that’s not Noel’s problem. He can just walk down the corridor, float along with the people and pass the figure that’s going to be standing there, somewhere right in the middle and obstructing everybody’s way, and Noel doesn’t even have to move, there’s going to be a hand making a grab for his, but Noel is fast and all it’s going to get is maybe one and a half seconds of Noel’s little finger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It might send a little, just a tiny spark down Noel’s spine, he can feel it when he concentrates on imagining it. It’s a little echo in his mind of things he doesn’t keep in his mind. Sometimes they are in his body, though, a flick of a finger or a twist of his waist in a way that lets the shadows of touches dance over his skin again before he can shake them away in all the new ways he’s learnt since he let the touches fade to nothing more than shadows. At night, sometimes Noel imagines Liam’s little finger slip just a little higher than his own and brush over a knuckle or two before Noel’s away again too fast and only leaves Liam with the feeling of two hands never holding each other again. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He says that to himself in his head. Out loud he sometimes makes promises of </span>
  <em>
    <span>if you do that, there will never again be… </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it’s the feeling of a little backdoor he lets himself have when he drinks more wine and lets his thoughts shout </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>over and over again until he’s numb and his feelings are what he wants them to be, for a little wine-while. There are one or two moments sometimes when he thinks about whether Liam sees his little backdoor, if he sees written on it </span>
  <em>
    <span>Someday, you know. Because conditions mean chances for you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Maybe his little finger could show Liam how to knock properly. It has to be softly, it has to be… It has to give Noel’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> the chance to turn around and become a quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it has to linger and wait like a kiss asking for permission until Noel’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes </span>
  </em>
  <span>can become loud enough to be heard as a confident order.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He used to order Liam to kiss him. And Liam used to beg him for it, and it used to make Noel hard and his hands hold Liam’s face tightly. Liam still begs for it, begs for many things and it only sometimes makes Noel hard and now his hands stay loose in his lap or maybe curl up into fists. In the corridor he wouldn’t make a fist. His hand would be relaxed, easy by his side and feel blank and without emotion to Liam. And he’d be gone fast enough to not give Liam the chance to reach deeper inside and take a feeling out of him - whatever kind, it’d be enough for Liam to hold on to and claw his way along back to Noel to dig and then tear up even more.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Maybe, sometimes Noel thinks - almost never, he can’t even remember the last time he’s thought of this - maybe it won’t be a corridor. Maybe it’ll be a room, a little one. With something to sit on, to lie on, to fuck on. Rough and hard and painful. Something that reminds him why he doesn’t do this anymore while he comes inside of him one more time. But the corridor is better and all that Noel needs. He can almost see Liam’s eyes in the little room, looking at him wide open and with too long lashes while Noel sinks into him. No one’s ever looked at him like Liam did when Noel pushed his cock inside them. He fucking loved it. Noel fucking loved it. He hasn’t fucked him in so many years now. And he isn’t going to fuck him again, never. If Liam keeps behaving that way</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>When Noel sees him in that corridor he just keeps walking, he doesn’t even look at Liam, he doesn’t even stretch out a finger, but Liam is touching him. And Noel makes him stop touching him. It’s maybe the only thing he needs, to make Liam stop touching him. Not on some metaphorical level, not like he needs Liam to stop touching his </span>
  <em>
    <span>heart</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that’s not what it is, that doesn’t even happen. He just needs the feeling of pushing Liam’s hands away, off his body, off his skin, just away from him. Nothing comes close to that. And he can do that in the corridor, maybe he can flick his little finger against Liam’s just a little bit, just so much that Liam feels himself being pushed away. That’d do Noel.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>In the little room Liam undresses. Noel doesn’t, but he gets his cock out and wanks over Liam’s grey and white chest hair. He takes Liam like he’s 19 again, but he sounds like he’s 48 and Noel comes when he looks at the crow’s feet around his eyes. One time, one and a half times, he wanked to a picture of Liam’s old face covered in his old-man’s-beard and too many wrinkles and lines. He threw the picture out. Noel’s old now, kind of older than he ever imagined himself being, living forever is a young man’s game. He still wants to live forever. He knows Liam wants to live forever, and he’s grown into his kind of forever, in some fleeting moments Noel hums about that to himself.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>The fucking stupid cunt, doesn’t know anything and does everything, everything that’s wrong and makes Noel harden his conditions. He has to, Liam leaves him no choice, because Noel has a choice and everybody has to know that. He forgets everything and acts like he’s still 21 and jealous out of his mind on fucking twitter, fucking wherever, is more insane than after the first time they did it and Noel couldn’t come home for days. He hasn’t been home for years. He has a new home and Liam’s never been in it, isn’t ever going to be in it. It’s a pretty house with lots of corridors and little rooms, but not the kind that is for Liam.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Maybe the corridor leads to the little room. Maybe Liam turns around and follows Noel’s little finger and bends over for Noel in the little room. Maybe he hugs Noel and pulls him down on the hard, broken sofa and lets him slide inside. Noel shakes his head and the corridor vanishes and the little room fades away and Liam… stays. He kisses Noel. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>In the corridor he hits Liam square in the face. In the corridor he kisses Liam afterwards, pushes through people to push him against a wall and feel his mouth open against Liam’s. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>In the little room he rocks Liam to sleep until his own eyes fall shut. He’s going to tell him to fuck off when they wake up again, he’s going to kick him out and not look at him. Maybe they’re going to wake up sticking to each other with dried sweat and come like they used to, maybe it’s ninety-whatever again and it’s okay to fuck your brother because you’re young and are going to become rich or have just become and you’re untouchable. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Only he touches Noel. And it might end up being just one little finger brushing up against the other one, but that’s enough for Noel. He has his little backdoor and he can open it or not when Liam finds his key.</span>
  <span></span><br/>
<br/>
</p>
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